The stars were shining bright in the pitch black African night sky, and sparks from the bonfire that danced up into the dark, accompanied by crackling and hissing, only added to the feeling of vast beauty. Off to the side, guys were turning over various kinds of meat over a barbecue, which they kept calling a braii, the heady aroma filling the air. Men and women, all very skimpily dressed were milling around the braii stand and the roughly made bar. Some couples gyrated to music that a live band was playing, a type of African salsa beat.
In spite of himself, Mark was enjoying the night. Between the music, food, beer and the friendly company, it really was an enjoyable evening.
Two things were bothering him though. The fact that Tsotsi still thought the idea of a cultural evening would be therapeutic was really bothering him. Who did they think he was, after paying all that money, to be appeased by manual labor and a night's entertainment? He could have done all that in New York, in style. Even the manual labor, which would have been simulated in an air conditioned gym.
One thing for certain, though, the relaxation here had certainly worked to get him completely mellow. He was feeling calm, he didn't feel rushed. And his orgasms were really intense now... which brought him to the second niggly thought. After that intense fuck in the afternoon - and the rather strange conversation he had heard just as he was sinking into a deep sleep - he had not seen Jennifer. He had been hoping to have a longer, extended session with her, but she had disappeared when he finally awoke.
Now, that would have been real therapy, he thought, ruefully looking around to see if she had come yet. Nope, she hadn't.
"How are you, Mark?" he heard a deep voice next to him, startling him. A tall, well built man was standing casually with a drink, looking down at him with a smile on his face. He was wearing a loose, white shirt and a loin cloth that barely hid anything, "My name is Ngwane, and you are my guest here."
Mark scrambled to his feet, in spite of himself - Ngwane was imposing in his stature and something about him exuded authority. He was obviously not a pure Swazi, his skin color a creamy brown, and his features a mix of Swazi and Caucasian. He wore his hair close cropped, and, along with his broad shoulders, he looked the part of a Marine.
"Ah, Ngwane," Mark stammered, holding out his hand for a handshake, "Good to meet you."
Ngwane reached out and embraced Mark in a brief hug instead and dropped into a chair, motioning Mark to do the same.
"I understand that you have problems with our program," he said pleasantly enough, just a slight glint of amusement in his eyes.
"Yeah, well," Mark decided to bite the bullet, "Honestly, yes. I had expected therapists and classes of some sort.."
"None of which helped you in the States," Ngwane cut in smoothly, "So you may want to try something a little different." He held up his hand to quieten Mark, "Give me a chance to make a difference in your life. When you applied to come here, we asked you an extensive list of questions, right?"
Mark nodded, remembering all too well the list of questions.
